While I was responding to writing 201’s word prompt GIFT… and rediscovered acrostics again the idea for this blog post also germinated…

The above poem describes the sheer joy of a small child who receives a gift he or she has so anticipated, but upon receiving it does not for now want to even unravel it. The child knows what the beautiful package holds and that it is now in his possession forever but prolongs the moment of anticipation and actualization.

Gift – the word itself is a bundle of myriad emotions, connotations, mystery, all rolled into one. When we hear the word gift a feeling of happiness envelops us like a warm blanket. Surprise joy pleasure, love, all happen at the same time. Hardly have I ever seen a person whose attention is not hooked instantly on hearing the word.

Butterflies in the stomach.. anticipation and definitely want …to varying degrees as we span the continuum from a child to an adult. Children are so fascinated by gifts ..Christmas, birthdays , any occasion you name. some just want to open the rainbow wrappings and see for themselves if it is the latest fad, a doll , a toy , a video game, maybe a sports gear ,or a branded shoe, chocolates, maybe just maybe a book( but the numbers are few and far between). For them the opening of the parcel is the ceremony… tearing the wrapping, getting the first glimpse is the joy. For some the thing inside is the high point. The happiness lies in the possession of the new article. And then there are some who cherish the very thought of being gifted. Like Willie Wonka they tea sure their new possession and savor it for time to come. Then again birthdays are such big occasions… my younger one countdowns months and days from the very next day of his birthday to the next. There would be a number of gifts in between but birthday gifts are special .he often asks me what have I planned for his birthday and I say”surprise” but that doesn’t deter him. “Okay so what is the surpirise” … as if I haven’t learnt my lessons until now ..if I tell him ,the surprise is gone and then I have to think of a new one before the big day…so no mister you don’t get to know it yet!

Children aside all adults also love gifts…and god only knows how many of us have fallen into the honeytrap of marketers who very well know how to exploit this emotion. Fill this form and get a surprise gift. Buy the product get a big gift…all too convincing.

But somehow down the line some more parameters have become associated with the bacis joy of gifting…the pricetag , the brand, the status symbol. We live in this material world and as very rightly put by MADDONA…am a material girl, boy boss, family….eyebrows are directly proportionate to the price!!

But all said and done a gift should be appriciated for the very essence of the joy of giving and receiving…. The thought and love that has gone behind selecting the very gift. The joy that it should bring and the humility and pleasure with which it should be accepted!

]]>https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/10/06/got-a-gift/feed/4yoshasinghIt’s all about respecthttps://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/09/19/its-all-about-respect/
https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/09/19/its-all-about-respect/#commentsSat, 19 Sep 2015 08:22:24 +0000http://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/?p=74Continue reading →]]>If I say thank you and please ,That’s because I respect you

If I clean my desk ,that’s because I respect my class

If I straighten my tie, that’s because I respect my uniform

If I polish my shoes, that’s because I respect cleanliness

If I step aside to let the teachers pass, that’s because I respect my elders

If I don’t shout in the class , that’s because I respect decorum

If I sing the national anthem correctly, that’s because I respect my country

The strains of this song have always remained with me and so have my teachers. Thankyou , for being the wind beneath my wing, for teaching me to walk, for letting me fly.

Todayas we celebrate Teacher’s Day I am grateful to each and every one of you who have touched my life in your own special way.

It’s been Twenty years since I graduated from school, A whole new generation has crossed the gates of my school, and almost eighteen since I had any contact with you as I had shifted out,but when I cameback I grabbed the very first opportunity to go back to school. It was The Annual Fete day. My Principal of yesteryear Sister Beena was just outside the gate.I could see her from afar.Both my sons were alongside me. As I reached her,her ever so sharp (how often we had wished that they were a little less sharper, when we were at school) eyes rested on me and it took her exactly two nano seconds to recognise and call out my name and hug me tight. She was just the same. Shouldering a lot more responsibilities ,working just as hard or harder if possible,The only witness to the passage of time were a few silver strands. tears pricked my eyes, the love was just the same. I feel so blessed.

Twenty years are a pretty long time to forget people , faces and names and I was pretty much sure that most of our teachers would have forgotten me ,so when I went for the Alumni meet a few weeks on, I met most of my Teachers. The reaction was the same , the love oh so evident. All my teachers Mrs Tejrashi Mehrotra, Mrs Bidhu Rani, Mrs Rashmi Singh , Mrs Sagarika mukharjee, Mrs Sushma Prasad, Mrs Xess, Mrs Treesa David, Mrs Rosy ,all still remembered me. I felt so humbled to be remembered. There were some who had not taught me , and some who had not been present at the meet but my thanks goes out to all of you for just being there during those wonderful years.

Some special teachers have passed on…. Mrs Rekha Srivastava, Mrs Poonam Kapoor….you are the stars that I see in the night sky whose light shall always be with me.

As I write this piece I have to thank someone who has taught me to write … thankyou Mrs Pratibha Singh for teaching me English.

Recently I had read of a teacher in England who was retiring after 25 years of teaching and a flash mob gathered to wish her goodbye! The children had practiced on Sundays without her knowing. My thanks to you too dear teacher.

I wish that my sons may also be blessed to have wonderful teachers like you in their lives. Teachers who teach , love and nurture. Teachers who give them roots and wings….

Thanking all my Teachers , all my professors all over the world. HAPPY TEACHER’S DAY!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Break the Silence.” There would have been a million times when I wish I had just said something. Anything, to wipe the smirk from the face. Just this once I wish I had given a befitting riposte , turned around with aplomb and walked out of the room leaving behind a dozen gaping mouths almost reaching the floor.

Believe you me, I am no fool or a doormat. I have my wits about me always so I have no shortage of replies just dancing on the tip of my tongue ready like a whiplash. But then I have realised that a sharp tongue is the only instrument that gets sharper with use. I have seen the hurt in the eyes of friends and family when the whiplash lands straight at the heart. Not every comment, said Knowingly or unknowingly requires a befitting reply. Sometimes it is just wiser to remain quite. Even when you know you are being wronged. It is never easy but situations subtly demand so. A lot depends upon balancing the good that may come out of it or the pain that it might cause. The part of the world that I come from joint families are very common. More the number of people more the chances of discord. A small comment or a statement can cause so much of pain. .It is so much easier to set the records straight then and there. You speak, I speak,you speak, I speak. Even in nuclear families this situation exists. A lot of fights between husband and wife is a direct result of this giving back syndrome. Please do not mistake me. I do not advocate keeping quite at all times. I am pretty much an educated modern woman with a mind of my own….and I read in one of the quotes on Pintrest “AN EDUCATED WOMAN IS A DANGEROUS CREATURE”… but I have learnt to temper my mind for the larger good. Not all battles need to be fought…. Sometimes silence speaks more clearly than words.

Since early childhood my grand mother taught me that let others speak ill of you, if you do not let those words permeate within you those words bounce of you and keep circulating in this universe like the million unwanted cosmic dust particles, but if you start reacting to every thing that is said you yourself harm your peace. You try finding ways to get back at others and the vicious cycle continues.

So learn to choose your battles and fight them well but do not put down people just for the heck of it.

]]>https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/17/choose-your-battles/feed/12yoshasinghSaffron White and Greenhttps://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/15/saffron-white-and-green/
https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/15/saffron-white-and-green/#respondSat, 15 Aug 2015 11:02:17 +0000http://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/?p=14Continue reading →]]>Sixty-nine years ago, a country with a, glorious gloden past, a country which was put into irons, stifled and subjugated finally managed to unshackle herself and feel the rays of an independant dawn upon her face almost after two hundred years.

What was once a golden bird again tried to spread her broken wings ,ready to fly out of this cage once and for all.The air that she would now fly in was her own, the trees that now she would rest upon would be her own, the grains she would now feed upon would be her own , the water she would now drink would be her own. So with the first stuttering stumbling steps she tried to fly again for she had to reach for the stars and fall on the clouds to get somewhere and she knew that if she stayed on the ground with the crowd all around she’d get nowhere. So with the wind beneath her wings she started to fly again and grew stronger and stronger and today as she rises above the clouds envious glances often come her way .The air that she flies in is riddled with dangers both seen and unseen but India flies high and strong.

The 15 th of August is a celebration for all of us Indians. The politico,the glitterati the literate, the illiterate, the patriot , the unpatriotic, the common man . This celebrations has different connotations, differently interpreted by all. For some it is a well deserved paid holiday because we live in an Independent India, for some a day to dust out the politically correct dress and be seen in the correct circles. For some, day to load the whats app page , Facebook, twitter and other social media with independence day messages and flags, because it is the in thing to do , flaunt your love for the country. But for most of us Indians it is day of great respect and joy. The date itself 15th August tugs at the heartstrings in a special way like no other. Thousands of tricolours are in the market flying high , children buying tricoloured ribbons, wrist band, pin up flags, mothers somewhat forcefully preparing tricoloured lunches for their children to take to school . The enthusiasm is so evident in children but there is cynicism also afloat. As we tend to grow older some how we tend to see just the negativity all around us. We have started to take this independence for granted. This present generation has not seen the struggle, the pain , the sacrifice ,the blood that anointed this freedom that we tend to take to last forever .We pay homage to all the sons and daughters who laid their lives for this freedom. The biggest ever non violent revolution that made the world take notice.

Cynicism step aside, there is an Indian heart beating in every one of the 1.25 billion bodies. The heart that loves the motherland in spite of all shortcomings. the heart that beats in bodies that live beyond her borders. The heart that sings the national anthem with goosebumps on skin whenever JANA GANA MANA is played in the background.

My heart is so warmed today to see the enthusiasm and fervour with which my younger one made patriotic floats and posters and tricolour bookmarks and my elder one did not once complaint that he had to go for independence day celebrations to school on a supposed holiday. Let the love for motherland prevail over all else….. I may sound like an incurable romantic patriot….. but then……I am just another Indian woman…..

]]>https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/15/saffron-white-and-green/feed/0yoshasinghFor the love of bookshttps://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/12/for-the-love-of-books/
https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/12/for-the-love-of-books/#respondWed, 12 Aug 2015 08:04:55 +0000http://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/12/for-the-love-of-books/yoshasingh: So first the nosedive and now….freefall ! It is so much more easier to start a new venture than to sustain and keep it afloat.So unlike all my unfinished projects, my intricate embroideries, those massive cross…]]>

It is so much more easier to start a new venture than to sustain and keep it afloat.So unlike all my unfinished projects, my intricate embroideries, those massive cross stitch works, those half knit sweaters which my mother and grandmother finally completed, I do want to write this blog. To share my love for reading, to pen down those thoughts that zip across my mind at the most inopportune moments( like when I am teaching my younger one grammar or tables or reprimanding my maid for the umpteenth time about a chore left undone) . These ideas fly past like snitches from a Harry Potter movie. Here now and gone the next.

During those so long gone carefree days of school and college I was an avid reader. fiction usually but cover to back cover in one go. This love for reading was…

]]>https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/12/for-the-love-of-books/feed/0yoshasinghFor the love of bookshttps://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/6/
https://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/2015/08/11/6/#commentsTue, 11 Aug 2015 09:01:55 +0000http://yoshasingh.wordpress.com/?p=6Continue reading →]]> So first the nosedive and now….freefall !

It is so much more easier to start a new venture than to sustain and keep it afloat.So unlike all my unfinished projects, my intricate embroideries, those massive cross stitch works, those half knit sweaters which my mother and grandmother finally completed, I do want to write this blog. To share my love for reading, to pen down those thoughts that zip across my mind at the most inopportune moments( like when I am teaching my younger one grammar or tables or reprimanding my maid for the umpteenth time about a chore left undone) . These ideas fly past like snitches from a Harry Potter movie. Here now and gone the next.

During those so long gone carefree days of school and college I was an avid reader. fiction usually but cover to back cover in one go. This love for reading was a direct genetic unmutated transfer from my maternal grandfather. A handsome septuagenarian bibliophile. though coming from the old school of thought and very hard earned money he did not believe in spending frivolously but books were his passion. ans so were mine. He would say no to many things but books ,never. He initiated us all brothers and sisters into our affair with books, book fairs, soviet publications ,readers digest, amar chitra katha.

Today when I dust my son’s book shelves, there are many books there but all gathering dust. I just feel a prick sometimes when my sons reach for the i-pad before they reach for the books. But then Who is to blame? It is us who have put the i-pad there instead of books. I am hoping against hope that some day the action shall be reversed.But all in good time .And as the saying goes… you can take the horse to the waters but you cannot make it drink… There will be a day when my horses shall drink the elixir .. and so hope I must like all mothers like me….cause i’m just another woman

Millions of ideas were teeming in my brain, crawling up my skin like ants, buzzing incessantly like pesky mosquitoes needing to be squatted with a pen.

Like all of us who love to read, dream to write one day. I too dreamt and dreamt and went on dreaming without putting anything on paper(the old classic way) or here in this case the Blog. But in the last few days I happened to read a few articles here and there( all making it big in the blogging world) and the itching started again.

So looked up the” THE FAST AND SURE METHODS OF WRITING A BLOG” “THE SUREST WAYS OF DIRECTING TRAFFIC TO YOUR BLOG/ WEBSITE” “BLOGGING MADE EASY” and about 174662332 more links which I did not even click on which I came across. But then serendipity and Lo Behold I come across WordPress. It all looked so easy that I said “And why not?”

Then for the next step. I must say I took the easier way out. I called or rather Whatapped my friends and family, took their blessings and permission, prayed,pried,plotted and procured the right to use our collective experiences as a woman to fill up the pages of this blog (without all of them barging up my door with a legal notice and a defamation case in today’s world of intellectual property rights). As women in general we have so much in common transcending world borders languages,and age. So here I am learning the ropes and hoping to connect with you all cause I am just another Woman……